


skin new, hands true (my hands all over you)

by doctorkaitlyn



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Collars, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Lingerie, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24237196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: Ella has a surprise for Maze.(Spoiler alert: Maze likes the surprise. A lot.)
Relationships: Ella Lopez/Mazikeen
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	skin new, hands true (my hands all over you)

**Author's Note:**

> so this is the first fic I've posted in over a year. oops. 
> 
> originally written as part of Nanowrimo 2019. title from MFEO Pt. 2: You Can Breathe by Jack's Mannequin.

A mere ten minutes has passed since Ella excused herself from the living room with a promise to return with a surprise, but Maze is already starting to get bored. 

As she sinks back further into the worn couch cushions, she casts an idle gaze around the living room, looking for something to amuse herself with, only to discover that nothing has changed in the last thirty seconds, when she last glanced around. Sure, there are plenty of things in the room that are _exciting_ ; unbeknownst to Chloe, Maze has stashed a number of sex toys around the room (all of them are contained in spots that aren’t readily accessible to or of interest to Trixie – Maze may not have the best grip on human niceties and customs, but she does know that she wants to keep her toys out of Trixie’s tiny hands). There are knives stashed in the underside of the couch cushions, handcuffs taped to the underside of the couch, a glass dildo (in a protectively padded bag) on the top shelf of Chloe’s bookshelf, tucked behind some old hardcovers covered in a thick layer of dust. 

On their own (or, more preferably, all together), those toys could be fun, but only if Ella was still in the room. Without Ella, they’re nothing more than a momentary distraction. It’d be like dipping her toe into a tub full of warm water, but not permitting herself to slide all the way in. 

Blowing a breath out of her mouth, she glances towards the stairs. If she listens carefully, she can hear Ella on the second floor, shuffling around and talking to herself. Maze can’t quite catch the particular words, but she can read the tone clear as day. 

Whatever Ella is doing up there, whatever kind of surprise she’s preparing for Maze, it’s got her all sorts of anxious. 

“You alright?” she yells towards the ceiling. 

“I’m fine!” Ella responds, sounding decidedly _not_ fine. “I’ll be down in a second.” 

Maze will believe _that_ when it happens. 

Absently, she slips a knife out of her boot sheath and starts twirling it between her fingers. If she can’t keep her mind occupied, she can at least keep her hands busy. 

At the very least, they have the place to themselves tonight; Chloe and Trixie are having a girl’s night at a state park a few miles up the coast, and they’re not supposed to be back until noon tomorrow. There’s a chance that Dan might show up, but Maze thinks she can successfully scare him off without a whole lot of effort. If _Lucifer_ shows up, the trouble will be convincing him to fuck off before he asks to join them. 

But hopefully, he’s too busy pathetically mooning after Chloe to bother them. 

By the time she hears the bathroom door creak open upstairs, Maze is on the verge of slamming her knife into the couch cushions just to keep herself occupied. Instead, she slides the knife back into her boot and sits up straight as Ella starts descending the stairs. 

Truthfully, while she has no idea what Ella’s surprise consists of, she doesn’t expect that it’ll be anything truly unusual or bizarre. Which isn’t to say that she’s not going to find it hot; she’s _definitely_ going to find it hot. It’s just that, having spent most of her life in hell (and most of her life on Earth, for that matter) flitting from person to person and bed to bed, Maze can safely say that there is a huge gulf between what most humans find surprising and what _she_ finds surprising.

But there’s still a little prickle of excitement fluttering at the base of her spine, if only because she knows that whatever Ella has to show her will be a first for _them_. It’ll be a new way for her to experience Ella, and if there’s one thing that she’s really gained a taste for over the last few months, it’s experiencing Ella in every possible way. 

“Okay, so,” Ella says, voice trailing off. Eventually, with a quiet sigh, she steps out of the stairwell and pads into the living room on bare feet. Once she’s hovering in front of the couch, lit by the soft glow coming from the lamp in the corner, she holds her arms out, like she’s presenting herself to a panel of judges. “What do you think?” 

Ella’s feet aren’t the only parts of her that are now uncovered. When she’d slipped upstairs, she’d been in jeans, a hoodie, and one of her novelty t-shirts; the same kind of outfit she wore to work every day. Now, those clothes have disappeared, replaced by a lacy lingerie set, a bralette with a plunging neckline and a pair of boyshorts, both of them a deep shade of blue that makes Maze think of the ocean at night, illuminated by the moon overhead. The color contrasts beautifully with the tan tone of her skin. 

But the way that the lace looks against her skin, the way it clings tightly to her curves, is almost unimpressive when compared to the other part of Ella’s outfit, the part that Maze assumes is meant to make up the main part of the surprise. 

Namely, the collar around her neck. 

It’s a few shades brighter than the lingerie, closer to spring sky than midnight ocean, and the leather fabric is shiny and unblemished. There is a silver hoop on the front, resting in the perfect center of her throat, and dangling from the hoop is a silver heart. When Ella shifts slightly, twisting on her feet, the heart shifts with her, jingling softly as it clicks against the hoop. 

“Wow,” Maze says, barely aware of the word falling from her lips. Rather than being outright sexy, there’s something sensual about the collar, something about the color of it, the quiet sound it makes and the way it stretches tight around Ella’s throat, that makes warmth flicker in Maze’s core. 

Not to mention the fact that, while she’ll have to test it in order to be certain, it looks like the heart is the perfect size for her to hook her finger into. 

“Yeah?” Ella grins and does another half-twirl, but it’s clear that not all of her anxiety has been vanquished. “It’s not… it’s not too much, is it? I know that’s kind of a stupid question, considering…” With a pause, she gestures at Maze. “But still. Is this cool?” 

“Cool is not the exact word I’d use,” Maze answers. She sees a flicker of uncertainty cross through Ella’s eyes, and before that flicker can grow any brighter, she sits up so that her back is flush with the back of the couch, raises her hand, and crooks her index finger, using the exact same motion she’s used on Ella so many times before (albeit in a slightly different context and usually with at least one more finger involved). “Get over here.”

Thankfully, this time, Ella doesn’t keep her waiting. She crosses the room and comes to a stop in front of Maze, standing between her splayed legs, like she’s waiting for instructions on what to do next. The heart jingles quietly at her throat. 

Maze grins. 

This is _definitely_ worth the wait. 

Leaning forward, she wraps her fingers around the outsides of Ella’s thighs, just above her knees. Ella’s skin is warm underneath her palms, dappled with a thin layer of dark hair that brushes against Maze’s fingers as she slides her hands up until her fingertips are skimming the lace of Ella’s underwear where it’s stretched across her thighs. 

“I like the color,” she says, moving her hands up even further, until her palms are resting on the slight curve of Ella’s waist. She can feel the nervous energy stirring underneath Ella’s skin, like electricity thrumming in a power line. “It suits you.” 

“Yeah?” Ella smiles. “I’m glad. I’ve never tried it before. The color, I mean. I’ve done the lingerie thing before. A few times. Twice, maybe? I don’t know. But the collar is new.” It sounds like she’s preparing for one of her long-winded rambles, and while Maze is generally willing to tolerate those, now isn’t exactly the best time. So, while Ella continues to talk, Maze slides her fingers over, until they’re skimming along Ella’s waist, teasing over where the lace bisects it. 

Ella’s words die out with a shuddering breath.

“It looks great on you,” Maze says. “I mean it.” She lets her fingertips drift a little bit lower, until they’re mere inches away from where she’s sure that Ella wants her, watches as her muscles twitch a little. If it was any of the other times that they’ve done this, Maze is sure that Ella would have some kind of snappy remark, might raise an eyebrow or ask what’s keeping her so long. 

But not today. Instead, she stays quiet and still, her arms resting loosely at her sides, the heart gently swaying at her throat. 

Maze likes the snappiness. She likes Ella’s impatience, likes the bravado she throws out in order to cover up the nervousness that pours out of her, likes the sheer humanity of it, the utter fucking brazenness of daring to talk back to a demon. 

But she could definitely get used to _this_ Ella, to the quiet one who is visibly trying so damn hard to be patient and motionless.

Once Ella is practically trembling, Maze traces one of her fingers up the center of Ella’s chest, between her breasts, to where the heart is resting against her throat. Curling one finger around the warm metal, she tugs, hard enough that Ella definitely feels it, but not hard enough to hurt. Pressing her own legs back together, she says, “Get down here.” 

In a flurry of motion, Ella drops onto the couch, one knee tucked on either side of Maze’s waist. Maze isn’t entirely sure if they’ll end up staying on the couch for the duration, but if they do, she makes a quick note to clean up before Chloe and Trixie come home, if only to avoid getting yelled at. 

It’s not that she’s afraid of Chloe yelling at her (being scared of any human is a laughable concept), but the sound of her voice _does_ tend to get rather annoying at high volumes, especially when she’s using it for an extended period of time. It’s a situation that Maze would rather avoid, if at all possible. 

“I have to ask,” she says, reaching up and brushing the heart with her thumb, making it sway slightly. “Where did you get the idea for this?” 

Ella laughs and shrugs a little. Her cheeks flush dark. “I, uh, actually asked Lucifer what you might find sexy. He gave me a few ideas that were a little, um, further out than I think I’m ready for, but I thought I could work with this.” 

Maze knows that the next time she sees Lucifer, he is going to absolutely _gloat_ about this, is going to ask for all of the gory details, but that is a problem for future her. 

Currently, she has no problems, because Ella is in her lap, practically quivering, looking utterly demonic in her beauty. 

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” she replies belatedly. With that, she gives the heart another quick tug before she returns her hands to Ella’s waist and cranes up for a kiss. It’s not the first time that they’ve kissed today (they got distracted a few times during dinner, just for a few minutes at a time), but Ella reacts like it is; gasping into Maze’s mouth, she buries her fingers into Maze’s hair and surges against her, like she’s trying to get as close to her as physically possible. Her hips roll down against Maze’s, and when Maze’s teeth skim over her bottom lip, she _whimpers_ , fingernails scraping against the back of Maze’s neck. 

Maze wants so badly to drag this out, wants to tease Ella until her grasp on language fails her and she’s capable of nothing more than gasps and moans, but she isn’t sure if she herself has the patience for that. Not when Ella is being _this_ eager. Not when she’s already fired up.

But maybe she can wait a little longer. 

As their tongues tangle together, Maze slides one hand up Ella’s side, eliciting a brief giggle (Maze has learned before that Ella is ticklish in that particular spot - she’s taken advantage of it once or twice, just to hear Ella laugh), and curls it around the swell of Ella’s breast. The reaction is immediate; Ella gasps and arches her back, pressing more firmly into Maze’s palm. Underneath the slight scratch of the lace, Maze can feel Ella’s nipple hardening, and she deliberately presses her thumb into it, _hard_. A loud moan punches from Ella’s lips, and the warmth between her legs grows. Maze can imagine how wonderful it’s going to feel when she sinks her fingers into that warmth or when she gets her mouth on it. 

It may very well feel like home. 

Forcing that thought from her head, she returns her attention to the task at hand. Leaving her thumb pressing into Ella’s nipple, she tilts her head up so that she can get her mouth on the other one. The lace of the bralette doesn’t taste entirely pleasant against her tongue, but it’s worth putting up with, because it means that underneath it, she can taste Ella’s skin, the slight salt of her sweat, can feel Ella’s nipple hardening against the tip of her tongue. Flicking her eyes up so that she can get a view of Ella’s face, she carefully presses her teeth into the hard bud, just forceful enough to be classified as a pinch. 

Ella surges forward again, and her hand tightens sharply. If Maze was a human, it would probably be _too_ sharp, would probably make her scalp throb in pain. As is, it makes an electric bolt of sudden arousal shoot to her core. Mouth curling up into a smirk, she repeats the action, hoping that Ella will _also_ repeat her action. 

Her hope comes to fruition. 

“Fuck, Maze,” Ella gasps, voice breathier by far than her normal speaking voice, rocking forward in Maze’s lap. She’s pressed so closely to Maze that Maze has to actually put in an effort to lean back and take a breath. 

“Maybe later,” Maze retorts without thinking. A brief flicker of confusion passes over Ella’s face, but before comprehension can set in, Maze simultaneously drags the bluntness of her fingernail against one of Ella’s nipple and sucks the other back into her mouth. 

At that point, the only thing crossing Ella’s face is absolute ecstasy.

Maze stays there for as long as she can bear, alternating the use of her hands and mouth, trying to keep things unpredictable, trying to keep Ella on the edge, never knowing what to expect. She’s fairly certain that she’s succeeding; Ella is shaking in her lap, and her voice is raspy, shot from a near constant string of moans and gasps and whimpers of Maze’s name. Her hands have let up slightly in Maze’s hair, which is, admittedly, a little bit of a shame, but Maze understands. She’s surprised Ella hasn’t just slumped over and begged. 

She’s sure that Ella is almost at that point, that she could easily push her over the edge, probably by doing something as simple as brushing a finger over her underwear, over where she has completely soaked through the fabric. It would be easy enough to dip her fingers down and do just that. 

But she has a better idea. 

Abruptly, she slides her hands away from Ella’s breasts and settles them back on Ella’s hips. Ella’s eyes, pupils black with arousal, widen for a moment with confusion. Maze doesn’t bother telling Ella to hold on; she’s wrapped around her so thoroughly that she would have to actively try in order to cause Maze’s plan to go awry. 

Instead, tightening her hands on Ella’s hips, feeling the delicate bones pressing into her palms, she flips them over, deposits Ella so that she’s on her back with her head resting on the arm of the couch and her legs splayed apart, Maze between them. Ella looks thoroughly wrecked in the most beautiful way possible; her hair has come out of her ponytail in half a dozen spots, is fanned around her delicate face like a halo. Her mascara has left smudges underneath her eyes, and her skin is flushed from the top of her neck all the way to the valley of her breasts. Her bra is askew, and her nipples are clearly visible, straining against the fabric. Her skin is marked with bites and scratches and smudges of Maze’s plum colored lipstick, and her thighs are slicked with her own wetness. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, heaving for breath, and with every shift, the heart jingles quietly at her throat. 

Maze imagines that, for the next little while at least, every time she hears a sound even remotely similar to that, she’s going to think of this exact moment – of Ella splayed out underneath her, looking thoroughly debauched, eyes wide and fixed on Maze, skin dappled with sweat. 

And to think, Maze has barely even _touched_ her. 

“We should get you more of these,” she says, reaching up and tracing her finger along where the collar is wrapped around Ella’s throat. The leather is warm against her fingertips, heated by Ella’s skin, and Maze is certain that they’ll need to wipe it down afterward in order to keep it clean. 

“Okay,” Ella says shakily, rapidly nodding her head for emphasis. “Do you have any suggestions?” 

Maze shrugs and leans down to mouth at the swoop of Ella’s neck, above the collar. It’s an area that she’s neglected today, which is a shame, since it’s really one of her favorite parts of Ella’s body. As she drags her mouth along Ella’s throat, she can feel Ella’s pulse pounding beneath her skin, can practically _hear_ it, as if it was her own heart beating in her ears. 

“A black one might be nice,” she answers, sliding down to where Ella’s neck meets her shoulders. “Leather, of course.” 

Ella laughs. “Of course. So predictable.” 

For that remark, Maze bites down _hard_. With a yelp, Ella’s whole body twitches. Her back arches off the couch, and she sinks her nails into Maze’s shoulders, clinging on for dear life. 

“Sorry,” Maze says, not apologetic in the slightest as she pulls back and sees a faint but clear impression of her teeth in Ella’s skin.

“Don’t be.” Ella’s nails slip and catch on Maze’s skin as she wriggles underneath her, pressing her hips up into Maze’s, skin meeting the metal of Maze’s belt buckle. “Can you… can we… _please_?” It’s a nonsensical sentence, but hearing the garbled words, hearing how much Ella struggles to say them, makes Maze feel inordinately proud of herself. 

It’s not _quite_ the begging Maze was hoping for, but she’ll take it. 

Besides, she’s sick of making herself wait. She’s been doing a fairly good job at not focusing on the heat building between her own legs, but as soon as she thinks about, it becomes _achingly_ hard to ignore. She’s suddenly hit with the _need_ to taste Ella. She needs to get her mouth on her, needs to feel her thighs quivering around her neck, needs to see her body bowing off the couch, needs to hear her crying out loud enough to probably attract the attention of the neighbors. 

(Not that Maze particularly cares if the neighbors hear – overhearing them will probably be the most exciting thing that’s happened to old Mrs. White, who lives next door with approximately eighty-two cats, in years.) 

She doesn’t waste any further time; she slides down the couch until she’s hunched over her own legs, the toes of her boots buried into the gap between the arm of the sofa and the cushion. Once she’s comfortable, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of Ella’s underwear and unceremoniously yanks them down her legs. She tosses them aside, and they land on the corner of the coffee table, half draped across one of their plates from dinner. 

Thank goodness for dishwashers. 

With those out of the way, Maze swoops in and presses her mouth to Ella’s core. She’s drenched with arousal, and the taste of her is nothing less than intoxicating. Flicking her tongue out, she drags it up to Ella’s clit, hard and throbbing, and traces it in a circle. Ella whimpers and slides her fingers back into Maze’s hair, shifts her legs so that they’re loosely draped over Maze’s shoulders, heels pressing into her back. It definitely makes things easier for Maze, and she wraps one hand around the underside of Ella’s thigh, so that she has better leverage. With her other hand, she drags two of her fingers through the wetness pooled between Ella’s thighs, gets them nice and slick, before she slides them in. They go easily, and Ella lets out a moan that almost sounds _grateful_. 

Understandable – as much as Maze didn’t intend on teasing Ella for so long, it kind of happened anyways. Truth be told, she’s grateful as well; Ella tastes even better than she remembered, and the feeling of her thighs pressing into Maze’s head, of her heels slipping and sliding and digging into the muscles of her back, is exquisite. 

Once her fingers have slid home, she throws herself into the task. She curls her fingers upwards until she finds the spot of slightly bumpy tissue inside Ella’s body, and starts curling her fingertips against it, fast and firm. She keeps her mouth and tongue busy at Ella’s clit, alternating between circling, flicking and sucking. Ella uses the grip of her heels to arch her hips up into Maze’s mouth and fingers, hard enough that Maze is sure she’d have bruises, if she were human. Her head tosses back and forth, hair a flurry of motion in the edges of Maze’s peripheral vision, and the collar jingles almost constantly, bouncing against Ella’s chest. When Maze flickers her eyes up, she can see sweat gleaming on Ella’s chest and neck, can see it shining on the collar. 

An idea overtakes her, and she reaches up, thankful that Ella is on the petite side (even then, it’s a bit of a stretch), and hooks her finger into the glistening heart. Unfortunately, it stops the sound in its tracks, but the effect that it has on Ella is immediate; her breath hitches, and she tilts her head back against the arm of the couch, the tendons on the side of her neck taut and tight. Her fingers slip out of Maze’s hair and settle on her own breasts, thumbs dimpling the center, pressing right into her nipples. 

A rogue thought pops into Maze’s head, the thought of how beautiful Ella would look with silver barbells (or maybe something a little more unique, something like black or light blue or pink) through both of her brown nipples, how nice of a sight it would be to have those just visible through the lace, glinting and flashing. 

She makes a note to casually ask Ella about that later, or at least to see if she’s ever considered the notion, before she crooks her fingers a little faster and tugs a little harder on the heart.

The combination of moves seems to have the desired effect; it’s only a few moments later that the muscles in Ella’s thighs start flexing erratically, that her breathing picks up even further, until it’s almost at the speed of hyperventilation. 

“Maze,” she gasps, her hips rolling frantically, heels digging in sharply, “fuck, Maze, I’m going to…” If there were any more words meant to follow that, they disappear into a high-pitched moan as Maze tugs on the collar again. As tempted as she is to say something, to tell Ella that she knows that she’s about to come, that she can feel it in every spot that they’re touching, doing that would take her mouth away from the equation, which could very well throw things off entirely. As easy as it is to get humans riled up, Maze has also swiftly learned that it’s just as easy to throw them off, that one wrong move can be enough to make them come (or rather, not come) to a screeching halt. 

So she doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, smirk playing at the corners of her mouth, she increases her speed and, seconds later, it pays off as Ella comes with a sharp gasp, her whole body shaking, legs twitching against Maze’s head. Maze guides her through it, slows down the crooking of her fingers and the movement of her mouth, but she doesn’t stop entirely until Ella weakly starts to wiggle away underneath her. 

“Too much,” she gasps, her voice barely above a whisper, legs slumping on Maze’s shoulders, going entirely limp. “Too much, I can’t…” Maze concedes; she removes her fingers both from Ella’s collar and from the inside of her body. Carefully, she slides Ella’s legs off of her so that she can sit back onto her knees. Ella’s legs fall apart, utterly boneless, one leaning against the back of the couch, the other falling off the edge. Her eyes are closed, and there’s a grin stretching across her face. She looks the very definition of blissful. As Maze takes her in, sweeping her eyes from Ella’s mussed-up hair to her curled toes, she notices that there’s a darker spot on the cushions underneath them, very clearly marking the spot for anyone who might come in. 

Like, say, Trixie and Chloe. 

Flipping the cushion should do the trick. 

Absently, Maze drags the back of her hand across her face, over her chin and her mouth. It comes back gleaming wet, and she cleans it off with her tongue.

Ella lets out another quiet moan, and her face flushes dark. 

“Don’t tell me that still grosses you out,” Maze says with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” Ella says, shaking her head. “Just… it’s a lot, seeing you do it.” 

Maze grins and deliberately drags her tongue along her bottom lip, sweeping up what remains of Ella’s come and relishing the way Ella moans again before she, with some effort, pushes herself up into a half-seated position. 

“Do you want me to help you out?” she asks, settling one hand on Maze’s thigh. Truthfully, there’s not much that Maze would like more, but she doesn’t think Ella has had enough time to recover yet; at the very least, if they move to a change in scenery, that will give her some additional time to recuperate, not to mention that they can have access to the rest of Maze’s toys. 

“Maybe in a bit,” she answers as she gets to her feet and scoops Ella up, one arm under her bent knees, the other under her back. Ella lets out a surprised yelp. 

“I _can_ walk, you know,” she retorts, even as she threads her arms around Maze’s neck. It’s a half-truth at best, considering that Maze can still feel the muscles in Ella’s thighs twitching, albeit not as intense as they were a few moments ago. 

“I don’t doubt that,” she says. “But I’m faster.” 

“Okay, fine,” Ella says, leaning up and pressing a hard kiss to the side of Maze’s neck. “I’ll give you that. Can we at least make a pit stop for water? Maybe a snack.” 

“I’ll bring you some,” Maze says. As they start walking upstairs, Ella’s collar jingles quietly, and Maze glances down at it. “Lucifer was right, by the way. That collar is very…” Calling it sexy doesn’t feel entirely appropriate, doesn’t seem to fully encompass how much she loves it, so she comes up with a substitution. “Beautiful. It’s very beautiful.” 

“I’m glad,” Ella murmurs, pressing another kiss to Maze’s neck. “But don’t worry. I won’t let him know. We can’t have it going to his head after all.” 

If it wasn’t for the fact that Ella secured the title of Maze’s favorite human a few weeks ago, it would be that remark that would earn her the title. 

Not that Maze plans on saying that aloud anytime soon. That would be too revealing. That would mean losing part of herself, giving it to someone else to hold onto, a part of herself that she would never get back. 

But while saying it out loud is too much, there are ways that she can _show_ it, ways like continuing to carry Ella up the stairs, like lowering her onto the bed, like going and fetching her water and food and letting her recover slightly before Maze dives back between her legs, her own arousal be damned. 

Indeed, she thinks that all of those small actions might actually say _I like you_ louder than the actual words.

She thinks that, for the time being at least, she’s okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
